The Product of War
by Gabriel Gatsby
Summary: Neville finds himself paralysed by fear during the final battle. Will he find the strength to do what needs to be done? (Warning: character deaths, minor action violence)


"Harry Potter has fallen! The Dark Lord is unstoppable!"

That was all it took, and the tides of the battle turned. Harry Potter was dead, and that meant they'd lost. Neville looked around him, and he no longer saw a fight. All he saw, everywhere, was death.

As spells exploded in all directions, ricocheting off the walls of the castle and lighting up the sky, bodies fell. Some ripped apart, some crumpled, others were crushed; however they went, one by one they dropped until the ground was littered with lifeless corpses. He saw a flash of bright blond amongst the rubble and recognised the young face of Colin Creevey; too young, surely, to die.

Without Harry Potter, they were nothing, and Neville could see this knowledge etched into the face of everyone around him. From the moment the news reached them, the battle was as good as over. As their numbers rapidly diminished he found himself forced to retreat back inside the castle. With faceless Death Eaters ever in pursuit, he tried not to watch as another familiar figure hurtled towards the stone steps having been thrown from a balcony above. Lavender Brown crumpled as she hit the floor, and Neville found himself turning away as Fenrir Greyback launched himself at her with frightening speed. It was too late for her, too, he knew.

Inside the castle, Neville caught sight of the unmistakable shade of Weasley ginger, but felt his already battered heart being squeezed by an iron fist as one of the twins disappeared beneath a downpour of rock and rubble. More death. Another name on the long list of wasted lives.

As their defence quickly turned to defeat, Neville felt the oppressive weight of fear pressing in from all sides. So many were already lost, how many more would there have to be? How many would die under Voldemort's reign? How many would be subjected to torture, turned mad like his parents? When an uttered, "Expelliarmus!" rid him of his wand, and he was left defenceless he wondered if he would be next. Even without the Body-Bind Curse that Voldemort trapped him under, he felt paralysed by his fear. He was afraid to die, but afraid, too, to live in this new world. Voldemort's world.

Voldemort forced the Sorting Hat atop his head, and he felt himself suffocating; choking on fear. Then, it caught flame, and through his own hoarse screams and the searing pain _he remembered._

Like a ray of light in the dark, he remembered Harry's instructions: kill the snake. Kill Nagini.

All was not lost yet.

With a roar he broke from the Body-Bind and tore the burning hat from his head. As though moving in a dream, he felt himself going through motions he barely registered as his own. Plunging his fist into the hat he clutched what he had somehow known he would find there; Gryffindor's Sword. In one swift movement he pulled the sword from its fabric sheath and brandished it in the air.

Eyes fixed on his goal, he thought of nothing else as he threw himself bodily towards the snake. The sword made no sound as it cut through the air, and for a moment it felt as though everything had stopped. In slow motion, sharp metal made contact with flesh, and it cut like butter. Neville felt the lightest resistance, for a fraction of a moment, and then it was done.

Even before he had time to register his victory, the hall had exploded in shouts and sparks and explosions of magic. Neville, though, heard nothing as he looked down to where his fist still clutched the hilt of the sword. As he watched, the silver handle turned red with blood, and it slipped from his slick fingers and clattered to the ground.

He looked up again just in time to see Luna running straight at him, before darkness claimed him and he fell to the floor.

* * *

Neville woke to the sound of familiar voices.

"The halls of Hogwarts have never seen a battle such as this," said one.

"And let's hope they never do again." A pause, and then, "Oh look – I think he's waking up."

Neville blinked his eyes open as he slowly fought his way into consciousness. He felt groggy.

"What 'appened?" He managed, then frowned as a face he thought he would never see again floated above him.

"Neville? It's me, Harry. You're okay. We won – you won. You did it, Neville."

Was he dead? How could Harry be here? Harry had died, hadn't he? So many had died, he remembered. But they had won? Thinking was difficult.

"How?" he mumbled, and Harry nodded in understanding.

"The Resurrection Stone," he said, "Voldemort hit me with the _Avada Kedavra _but I had the stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility, and The Elder Wand." He gestured to the items he listed as he mentioned them, and Neville turned his head weakly to look at the small pile of objects on the floor. So unassuming, but so powerful.

"And what happened to me?" Neville asked, aware of a throbbing pain in his wrist and still struggling to think straight through his foggy mind.

"You did it, Neville. You saved us all. You killed Nagini." That wasn't all, Neville knew, and so he waited for more. "You were bitten, Nev, but you're fine. Hermione brewed the Poison Antidote, so you should be all fixed up soon." He smiled again, and for the first time in a long time Neville felt the blanket of fear lifted from his shoulders. It was really okay. They had lost so much, but now it was finally over.

For the first time since waking he looked around and took in the other survivors. George Weasley and Angelina sat a little way off from him; Angelina had an arm wrapped around George's shoulders as he shook with silent sobs over the body of his brother. She rested her head against his and together they grieved. Somewhere behind him he heard the authoritative voice of Professor McGonagall, uttering clear "Repello Muggletums" and "Protego Maximas" as she repaired the battered Hogwarts defences. Looking to his left, he saw the sweet face of Luna; the last thing he had seen before unconsciousness had claimed him.

Standing, Harry smiled down at them both,

"I should go see if I can help Hermione," he said, then before he walked away added, "I never thanked you before for helping me find and destroy the Horcruxes, but… thank you. Thank you both, I couldn't have done it without you."

Both Luna and Neville returned his smile before he walked away. Then, they turned to each other.

"So… it's over," Neville said, with a sigh of relief.

"Yes," Luna agreed in her soft voice, "it's over…" there was a pause, then she added in her dreamy sort of way "Of course… I always knew it would be. I saw it in the Crystal Ball, you see."

Neville stared at her in disbelief. All this time, and she didn't think to mention this? After a moment of silence, he gave up his shock and laughed aloud. There would be no more worrying from now on. Everything was different, now, and he could be different too. Luna soon joined in his laughter, and it felt good. Free.

Luna laced her fingers into his, and together they felt the first few flickers of hope reignite in their broken hearts. Like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, small at first, it soon began to soar.

New life, he decided then; that is what would come of this war.

* * *

_Written for: the 'New Years Event: Grand Battle Challenge'. Prompts: various (see underlined text)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

_CC cover image (entitled 'Howarts - Blue Hour') courtesy of casajump on Flickr._

* * *

**A/N: **So I wrote this while painfully hung over and yes, I was totally prompt cramming. Let me know what you thought - was it all too forced? Con-crit welcome as always! GG x


End file.
